Dealing with the scene
by GemmaKat
Summary: A young policewoman deals with the crime squad after being called to a scene where she is forced to discharge her weapon.
1. Default Chapter

Sitting in the ambulance, legs dangling from the open doors, I watched my shaking hands in consternation.  
Stupid, stupid, I thought bitterly, clenching my fists in a vain attempt to stop the trembling of my limbs.  
The blood on my arms had dried to a crusty black and when I took in a deep breath I could smell its metallic tang. Viciously pushing back my hair I realised that it had fallen from its ponytail. In fact my hair band had fallen out completely. Obviously lost it in the struggle, even to me my inner voice sounded bleak.  
Once more I dropped my head in my hands, ignoring the butt of my gun as it dug into my waist. It felt good; solid, and that's what I needed right now, a little comfort. I heard the sound of my gun firing once more, saw the spurt of blood against my closed lids, smelt the acidic burn of gunpowder. A tear squeezed itself from my eyes.  
'Officer Simone?'  
The voice shocked me, and I jerked my head up, careful to wipe away that traitorous drop of fluid.  
'Sir?'   
I took in the man before me, registering his grey salt and pepper hair, the soft blue of his eyes, the round-framed glasses and the inquisitive tilt of his head.  
He glanced down at a file in his hands.  
'You are Officer Josephine Simone?'  
I nodded, pushing away a stray lock of hair.  
'Jo. I go by Jo.'  
The man before me nodded.  
'Gill Grissom, I'm with the crime unit. You were first at the scene?'  
'Yeah.' I chewed nervously on my lower lip, wrapping my arms around myself and shivering against the cold.  
'Have you been seen to yet? That's a nasty cut.'  
I raised a hand to my forehead, feeling the deep gash there, the crust of dried blood and the wet of fresh.  
'No, not yet. They were busy with the victim.' I stared up at Grissom, looking into his inquisitive eyes and feeling strangely empty. Shit, I'm in shock. I shook my head slightly. C'mon, Jo. Get a grip.  
'Are you sure you're alright?' His voice was all business but soft.  
'Yeah, yeah. I'm fine.' I cleared my throat, looking around me at the chaos of the crime scene.   
'The neighbour called it in. Miss Walters; widow. She heard shouting, it was so bad that she was scared and rang in for assistance.'  
Taking a breath I winced as pain shot through my head.  
'By the time I arrived to the scene the house was silent. I knocked but no one answered, so I tested the door and it was unlocked.  
Upon entering I could see that there was a body, except. . .' here I couldn't help the slight catch in my voice, 'the vic wasn't dead. There appeared to be numerous knife wounds. He was bleeding out, right there on the carpet.  
I called for assistance and began treating his wounds; applying pressure. I was talking to him, telling him that help was on the way. Then his eyes strayed behind me and I turned just in time to see the hit coming. I just couldn't get out of the way in time.'  
Grissom's eyes returned once more to the large gash on my forehead, noting that a bruise was already forming.  
'A fight ensued. I was forced to draw my gun.'  
Grissom asked whether I had discharged my weapon, even though it was obvious from the wound in the second vic to know that I had.  
'Yes.' Was my reply as Ireached into her holster and pulled out my firearm.  
'You'll be wanting this.'  
Grissom held my eye.  
'Yes, I do. Thank you.' He raked his eyes across the slump of my shoulders, the dried blood covering every part of exposed skin, before returning once more to my eyes..  
'And I need to take your clothes as well. I've arranged a change of clothes.'  
Reaching into the bag at his feet he pulled out one of the crime scene jumpsuits.  
I nodded, taking the suit and standing. Grissom turned around and, obscured by the open ambulance doors, I removed all my clothing; jacket, shirt and trousers; the whole uniform. Stepping into the blue jumpsuit I winced once more as another wave of pain shot through my head.  
When I turned around to hand over my clothes, I swayed slightly on my feet, feeling as Grissom's hand curled around my forearm to steady me.  
'I think you're suffering from concussion, officer.' He maintained his hold on my arm.  
'It's Jo.' I muttered. 'And I'm fine. I'll make sure I'm checked out at the station. Have you got everything you needed?'  
Grissom pinned me with his eyes clearing expressing his disapproval of my flippancy. Screw this, I thought angry, wanting only to get a hot cup of black coffee and a cigarette. I hadn't smoked in over two years but suddenly it seemed like a desirable habit. I could almost taste the smoke in my mouth.  
'Yes. I'll be sending one of my team to sit in during your interview. I hope you feel better.'  
I nodded, careful that as I walked away from him and towards my waiting car that I didn't stumble or show any outwards signs of weakness. It was obvious that this guy never missed a trick. 


	2. Chapter 2

Brass and Grissom stared through the one-way window into the interview room. Inside Jo Simone sat with her back straight and shoulders squared, her hands cupped around a hot cup of coffee. She was still wearing the blue crime scene jumpsuit, and she had buttoned it right up to the neck as if fighting off the cold, though the room was pleasantly warm.  
The gash on her head was now decorated with black stitches, surrounded by an orange stain left from the disinfecting cleaner. Her right cheek was swollen, a yellow-green bruise stretching from her cheekbone down to her jaw. A red-black shadow gave a damaged look to her right eye, and from where he stood Grissom could see that that too was slightly swollen. Her knuckles were an unnatural red.  
Everything about her posture screamed poise and control, but Grissom could see the slightly downwards tilt of her head and the exhaustion that she couldn't quite keep from her eyes. Dark brown hair fell forwards, partly obscuring her face. The cut was short and the style shaggy. Her hands would run through it every now and then in an unconscious gesture. Occasionally she would suck her bottom lip into her mouth so that she could gnaw at it nervously. Yet despite all this Grissom sensed that this was a woman who excelled at her job and was in total control. Her track record was impeccable.  
'So are you going to be quick with this?' Brass turned his dark eyes to Grissom.  
'The medic said she's suffering with a mild concussion, but as usual Miss Simone wants to tackle the job at hand.'  
His expression softened and he dropped the sarcastic tone.  
'She's a good kid. She works hard. I reckon she'll go far, but she loves the streets. This was the first time she's fired her gun on the job.'  
Grissom nodded.  
'We'll take her statement, and then compare it to the evidence.'  
Brass headed towards the door, and the two men entered the room.  
  
By the time I heard the click of the door opening I was beginning to feel a familiar flush of anger. Part of me knew it was just a protective reaction to how disturbed I was feeling, and this only fuelled the ball of rage burning deep in my stomach. I wanted only to get on with this case, find out what had happened. I knew that if I could just find out what exactly had occurred at that house then I would start to feel a little more human.  
'Jo.' Brass' voice was friendly. 'How you holding up?'  
I forced a smile.   
'Pretty good, sir.'  
Grissom slid into the seat opposite me, and Brass took his usual position by the door. I was used to standing next to Brass in rooms like this, and I suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable. I shifted in the hard-back chair.  
'Could you explain what happened once more, Miss.. . Jo.'  
My lips curled slightly at Grissom's sudden correction, and then I told my story again.  
Grissom just sat silently through it all, nodding occasionally, his blue eyes holding mine. Another wave of desire for a cigarette washed over me, and I chewed on my bottom lip in consternation.  
Finally Grissom turned his eyes back to the file in his hands and started making notes. The silence of the room began to grate on me.  
'Look, are we done here?' I couldn't quite keep the aggression out of my voice, and Gill pinned me with that steady gaze of his.  
'Sure. C'mon Jo, I'll get you another drink.' It was Brass who replied, his protective instinct kicking in. He cared about his fellow officers, though he would have been amused to know that the women of the force called him the 'Big Daddy'.  
I went to stand, gritting my teeth against a sudden wave of dizziness. When I realised Grissom was still watching me, I squared my shoulders.  
'Thank you, Mr Grissom.' This time my voice was unfailingly polite.  
'I was wondering if it would be possible for me to follow this case? I'd like to know what happened back there.'  
For a while he said nothing, then he nodded. 'Of course, but you understand that it will take some time to build a case?'  
I snorted derisively, my tiredness making me forget that I was asking for a favour.  
'Yes, I know that. I'll be in touch.'  
And with that I left the room, feeling Grissom's gaze on my back, and feeling oddly exposed under its glare. 


	3. Chapter 3

Note; This is a short one, but nevertheless I want to dedicate this to fe. Thanks for taking the time to review. Enjoy.  
Long, deep drags of my cigarette began to soothe my ragged nerves, and as I held the smoke deep in my lungs I could almost feel the nicotine leeching into my system, travelling to my brain and sending messages that 'everything is ok'.  
Taking another long pull I allowed the smoke to waterfall from my mouth, only to be sucked in by my nostrils. Irish waterfall, I thought as a wry smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.  
Unbidden another flash of the scene entered my mind. Once more I could see the man bleeding out before me. Who knew blood could be so very red? I swallowed, squeezing my eyes shut and scrubbing at them with my free hand as if I could rub the memory away.  
'Are you ok?'  
The voice, though now familiar, startled me and I turned quickly, dropping my cigarette in the process.  
'Aww, shit!' I watched morosely as the cherry dropped out and all that was left was a useless filter.  
'You got a cigarette I could bum?'  
I asked Grissom as he came to stand beside me.  
'No. I don't smoke.'  
'Neither do I.' Was my mumbled reply.  
Sighing, I looked up into Grissom's face, its lines and contours starting to grow on me.  
'What do you want now, Grissom?' As soon as the words were out of my mouth I grimaced and laughed wryly.  
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude.'  
He just pinned me with those blue eyes of his, and staring up into them I suddenly felt ashamed, a lump rising in my throat. I forced it down with a swallow.  
'It's ok, officer. I can see that you're exhausted. One can be forgiven for forgetting their manners occasionally.'  
The amusement in his voice helped to soothe my wounds, but part of me would always be a 'no touch' zone of damage. Apparently this is what happens to you when you're a cop.  
'I was wondering if you would be interested in going over some of the evidence with me?'  
I looked up at him now with interest.  
'Excuse me, Grissom, but why the hell do you want a cop looking over your shoulder?'  
A genuine smile graced his face and it was like a light bulb had turned on. He looked years younger and his eyes twinkled in away that I could most definitely learn to like. It was hard not to smile back.  
'Because, Jo, I know for a fact that you will refuse to go home until you have as much information about this case as possible. Therefore I decided that by cutting out the middleman, and having you watch as my team process the evidence would mean you can go home faster. Maybe get some sleep before that concussion knocks you out.'  
I burst into a delighted laugh.  
'Of course,' Grissom continued, 'I expect you to stay out of the way.'  
'Why of course.' I managed between chuckles.  
Standing I reached out a hand to touch Grissom above the shoulder.  
'Thank you, I appreciate this.'  
He merely nodded, turning towards the building and indicating that I should follow.  
Just as we were going through the doors he turned to me again.  
'I do have one question.'  
I fixed him with clear eyes.  
'And what would that be?'  
'Your accent, it's interesting. Where are you originally from?'  
I laughed. 'C'mon Grissom, you're the investigator, you tell me.'  
Although he didn't smile I could see amusement shining in his eyes, this man obviously liked a challenge.  
'I will.' He said, and then we continued into the building. In my head, I was wondering how long it would take him to figure it out. Not long, a sage voice whispered. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Sitting in a surprisingly comfortable low backed chair, I watched as Grissom's long fingers flicked deftly through the case file, his eyes moving along the words, comparing them to another file on the left.  
He was of average height, had what I would call a teddy-bear build, and yet to see him in action was to see someone elegant, fluid, in control. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, and with one finger he pushed them back in a gesture almost childlike in its simplicity. I couldn't bite back a smile, finding this man in front of me far too becoming.  
But then his eyes caught mine and the naked intelligence and curiosity in them made me pause. I opened my mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped me.  
'Hey Grissom.' Greg poked his spiky-haired head through the door. I grinned up at him, registering the appraising flick of his eyes down my seated form.   
'I've got something for you, and I think you'll be pretty pleased.'  
Tilting my head I realised that Greg was playing, and looking at the expression on Grissom's face I could tell this was the norm for them all. Hey, I thought in amusement, maybe being a scientist isn't as dull as some might think.   
Grissom turned his eyes on me.  
'Would you care to join us?'  
'Of course. Thank you.'  
I stood up, feeling the tension in my body set off in high relief when next to Greg's bubbly, enthusiastic form. Jeez, he loves his job, but this was thought with a smile.  
  
'Ok.' Greg's voice had lost some of its earlier playfulness as he pressed his eyes against the microscope, his handing deftly searching out needed files and instruments.  
'Two samples of blood were taken from the scene.' He looked up, fixing us both with his gaze, though I noticed it flicked most of all to Grissom. I could understand why Greg had chosen him as his hero. Greg was, despite his actions, highly cerebral, and after meeting Grissom there was no doubt in my mind about where Gill's soul liked to reside.  
'One from victim 1; the guy who was stabbed. And two from victim 2; the man Jo here shot.'   
I clenched my jaw, telling myself that he was just speaking the truth, but it didn't stop the little jab which went through my chest. I guess it takes sometime to get used to the fact that I had shot a man.  
'Now vic 2's blood came back clean, nothing interesting there, though Nick and Warrick are running it for a match.'  
Grissom nodded.  
'But vic 1's blood was a mixture of three, I had to separate them out.'  
I watched as Grissom's right eyebrow rose quizzically, before turning equally intrigued eyes back to Greg.  
'Now,' and once again there was a sense of showmanship to Greg's voice,  
'after taking a sample of Jo's blood. Thanks Jo.' He sent a winning smile my way.  
'I've determined that one of the XX samples belongs to Jo here.'  
'One of the samples?' Grissom's voice had taken on a commanding quality. Get to the point, it clearly said.  
'Yes. The other sample has over 50 markers identical with victim 1.'  
'They were related?' I knew this wasn't my place of work but I couldn't help but ask.  
Greg nodded, turning his gaze to the thoughtful look on Grissom's face.  
'What do you think? Siblings?'  
'Exactly.' Greg nodded his head, pleased that Grissom was so involved, pleased that once more he was being a help to a man he admired.   
'So victim 1 had a sister there at the scene. Interesting.' Grissom's eyes had a far off look; he was lost there in the evidence.  
'Now what we need to know,' I spoke, my voice sounding oddly serious,   
'is who the hell they were.'  
I flashed a tight smile at Greg, feeling a ball of tension in my chest, one that I was familiar with; I was itching to figure this all out. I turned to Grissom, prepared to tell him that I would start looking straight away, when my phone jangled in my pocket.  
'Excuse me.' I said instead as I walked out the door and into the hallway.  
  
'Ok, Greg. This is good.' Grissom said as he looked down at the print outs in his hands.  
'You know what those fibres are yet?'  
Greg shook his head. 'I'm just getting on to that now.'  
'Good.' Grissom turned to go.  
'She's great, isn't she?' Greg's eager voice stopped him. 'Jo, I mean. She's just so smart and attractive.'  
Grissom turned, both eyebrows raised, amusement flashing in his eyes.  
'Hmmm.' He murmured ambiguously, purposefully ignoring the huge grin on Greg's face.  
He stepped out the door, eyes on the paper in his hands.  
'Jo, why don't you. . . . .' Grissom looked up, only to take in an empty corridor. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Grissom walked into the room that acted as the team's common room, to find Sara, Nick and Warrick sitting at the large, central table, paper and files covering the pitted surface, discarded coffee mugs littering the sides.  
'Have any of you seen officer Simone?' Grissom stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame.  
'Yeah, she's gone out for a while.' Nick turned his face up to Grissom.  
Gill raised an eyebrow, pressing his glasses further up his nose.  
'Gone out?'  
Nick shifted slightly, laying his large hands out on the table.  
'Yeah, she got a call through from Brass. Turns out the guy she shot died on the operating table about 20 minutes ago.'  
Nick turned strangely defiant eyes up to Grissom's, as if daring the older man to question Jo's reason for leaving, her need to take some time out.  
Stepping further into the room, smoothly avoiding any kind of confrontation, Grissom poured himself some coffee and seated himself at the table next to Sara.  
'So what have we got?'  
Every pair of eyes turned to the files laid out before them, and the team applied their considerable brainpower to unravelling the clues, so they could file it away as yet another 'case closed'.  
  
By the time I walked through the glass doors of the large crime unit building, I felt marginally better, but completely in control. An icy cold had settled around me, the frosty wind that bit into my body as I had sped along the highway had seeped into my very core.  
But beneath the ice were emotions and questions I wasn't quite ready to face yet. Now wasn't the time. I knew I was angry at both myself for being so weak, and the people who forced others to hurt them; the kind of no good, sons of bitches who made good cops agonise over their actions.  
And I was upset; really upset. I hadn't killed a man before today, last night, and I was finding it hard to reconcile this with the image of the fierce, yet morally sound woman I thought myself to be.  
Worst of all I felt stupid, ignorant, naïve even. I had known for a very long time that I was one of those people who could kill if the situation came down to my survival or another's. I had known this one fact for a very long time, and it had been the deciding factor that made me take the leap to join the force.  
Yet now, here I was, my discharged weapon sitting in a plastic bag somewhere ready to be examined, one of my bullets lodged in a dead man's body, and my hands shaking with fear, nerves and uncertainty. This wasn't the woman I knew, or even wanted to know.  
The problem with walls, that sage voice whispered in my head, is that when they come down, they're always notoriously hard to rebuild.  
I shook the hair out of my eyes, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath of the crisp air so that it burned all down my throat, and then I headed for the lab.  
I could see through the glass walls as I approached that Greg, Grissom and a woman in beautiful clothes were standing in the lab, huddled in a group and talking freely.  
I knocked gently on the door before I entered, knowing as I took off my sunglasses that my eyes were slightly red from crying, my skin too pale and the bruises livid and ugly in their colour. I pushed this all from my mind, pretending I couldn't feel the force of Grissom's gaze on my face, and forced a smile onto my lips.  
'Catherine Willows?' I stuck out a hand to the woman, admiring the cut of her trousers and the beautiful red of her shirt.   
'Officer Simone.' Well, she knew who I was. 'It's a pleasure.'  
'Thank you.' I smiled into her blue eyes, taking in the carefully applied eyeliner, the coral-pink lipstick. Jeez this woman spent a lot of time on herself, but she does look good from it.  
Suddenly I felt embarrassed, bumbling. Dear Lord woman! I practically screamed in my head. Get a grip.  
'Grissom. Can I have a word? Are you done here?'  
He pinned me with his gaze and for once I looked away first, feeling too exposed, like just another specimen to be dissected.  
'Yes. I'll want an update later, Catherine.' She nodded, her auburn-blonde bob swinging and catching the light. Such a fetching woman.  
I followed Grissom from the room, glancing every now and then at his profile, noting the soft hair that curled over the top of his ear. He needed a haircut.  
With a jolt I realised we had stopped walking and he was now watching me watch him. Smiling to hide how flustered I felt, I reached out a hand and brushed the hair away from his ear. 'You need a haircut.'  
He just stared at me levelly for a while, and I hoped this wouldn't turn into one of those embarrassing moments, but then he smiled slightly and I felt a wash of relief flow over me. My fingertips tingled ever so slightly from where they had brushed against his skin.  
Entering Grissom's office, he gestured for me to take a seat, shrugging a lab coat from off his shoulders. I noticed that he had changed his jumper, so that he was now wearing a soft looking black polo neck. It made his shoulders look wider, his waist trimmer and I had a sudden desire to run my hands along his sides so I could feel the soft rib of the top. Instead I sat on my hands, and told myself the stress was getting to me.  
He pulled his chair around the desk so he could face me without any obstacles in the way. I noticed the little frown of concentration on his forehead as he focused on manoeuvring the chair carefully around the desk corner. How could he manage to look so adult and yet so childlike at the same time?  
I turned my face away briefly, pretending to look at the leaflets tacked to the wall, whilst I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought back the prick of tears from my eyes.  
'Jo. . .' He started and something in his voice made me unwilling to hear this conversation, so I interrupted.  
'Any new developments since I left?'  
Again he pinned me with his gaze, and again I wanted to run away from it, because I knew that this was a man I could not fool with false bravado. Thankfully he replied, accepting my change of conversation.  
'Yes. We were able to identify victim one.' Reaching behind him, he pulled a brown file from off the desk, passing it to me.  
'James Tyler.' I read from the top of the file, quickly taking in his previous offences and then staring at the photo neatly clipped at the top. I recognised him immediately of course, it's not often you press your hand over the hot, squirting blood of a severed jugular in a desperate attempt to keep someone alive. But he looked younger in this picture, more vital and alive. I closed the file carefully and handed it back to Grissom.  
'So you've tracked down the sister?' I worked at keeping my voice even, focussing on the case not the people. Or at least I was trying to.  
Gill nodded. 'Indeed. She's in custody at the moment.'  
I snapped my head up, pinning him with my eyes. 'Really?' I wondered why I hadn't been paged.   
'I want to be in there.'  
Grissom folded his hands over, linking his fingers and I couldn't help but stare at the grace in which those long, tapered digits moved.  
'That isn't entirely up to me.'   
'Then I'll clear it with Brass.'  
I stood up, brooking no argument. I wanted to be in there, I wanted to hear what this woman had to say.  
'What's her name?' I asked, pushing my hair back and tilting my head in Gill's direction.  
'Felicity Tyler. Jo, maybe you should consider watching from the booth. It might not be a good idea having you inside.'  
I turned so I was looking him full in the face. Noticing the fine lines around his eyes, I wondered how old he was. I glanced briefly at his lips, before returning my gaze to his eyes. I let out a breath.  
'Ok. Sure. That will be fine.'  
And then I turned and left the room, leaving Grissom to stare after my retreating back. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Grissom stared at the woman before him, taking in the garish, bottle-red of her hair, the perfectly applied eyeliner and the slightly ragged slash of lipstick on her surprisingly full lips.  
Her fingers tapped out an agitated rhythm on the table top next to the cup of coffee she had gulped down hot. Her tongue flicked out briefly like a lizard's, her keen eyes examining Grissom's face.  
She was a striking woman, but it was hard to tell whether she was attractive or not. Any natural beauty was hidden by the thick makeup she applied, the vivid colours over-enhancing every feature in an almost clownish way. Gill's thoughts flicked briefly to Jo who he knew was watching him this very minute. He saw her face, devoid of makeup and yet still attractive. He imagined that some might glance over her in a crowd, but those who took the time to stop were amply rewarded. Some women shone because they knew how to enhance beauty, others because beauty was simply a glorious afterthought.   
Turning his attention back to the woman in front of him he pushed a photograph forwards.  
'Miss Tyler, do you recognise this man?'  
Felicity's green eyes flicked form the photo, to Grissom's face and back to the photo once more.  
'Nah.' Her voice was a lazy Texan drawl.  
'I aint' ever seen that fella before.'  
Grissom cocked his head very slightly.  
'Are you quite sure?'  
Annoyed now, her jaw working in irritation she nodded her head.  
'I don't recognise him, alright?'  
'Oh come now.' Brass stepped away from his recline on the wall.  
'Surely you must have guessed that we already know he is a relation of yours.'   
Brass strode casually over to the table, glancing at the file laid out before Gill for effect, as he already knew all he needed.  
'James Tyler. Prosecuted in 86' for armed robbery, released on parole in 91'. He's your brother, and only brother at that.'  
Felicity Taylor looked away, angry eyes burning into the wall. Shrugging her shoulders in a sharp gesture she turned a set face up to Brass.  
'Yeah, so what? He's my brother. Ok. Fine.'  
'Why would you lie?' Grissom's voice was low, measured.  
Felicity shifted in her chair.  
'I thought maybe he was in some kind of trouble. I was covering all my bases.'  
Brass took a seat next to Grissom.  
'Well he is in a lot of trouble, Miss Taylor. In fact he's dead, but I suspect you already know that.'  
He pinned an unwavering gaze on her, and Grissom watched as a muscle twitched at the side of her right eye.  
'And considering the blood we found at the crime scene, I would say you too are in a lot of trouble.' Brass pushed forward a piece of paper.  
'Exact match. It's yours.'  
Confused and wary eyes scanned the paper, and it was obvious to those in the room, and the silent figure watching from the other side of the window, that Felicity had no idea what was mapped out for her there on the page.  
'You see,' Grissom began, 'everyone has unique genetic markers, and all these markers are present in every single cell. One cell is all we need to identify someone.' Here he paused watching as the information sank in.  
'We found your blood at the scene, and not only can we prove emperically that it is yours, but that you are also a direct, or what we'd call first, relation of James Tyler. Your brother.'  
Grissom could almost see the realisation dawning in this woman's eyes, watching as her gaze darted back and forth in a gesture that told him that she was frantically searching for some sort of explanation. But as so many do, she came out empty. Letting out a breath, she squared her bony, birdlike shoulders and fixed defiant eyes on Grissom.  
'So what? What's that gonna prove?'  
'It proves that you were present when a man was murdered. It also proves that you barely escaped being caught by the officer who was called to the scene.' Grissom kept his level gaze on Felicity's face, watching as the walls behind her eyes began to crumble.  
'So why don't you tell us what you were doing there?' Brass' voice had that soft-solid quality only an experienced cop can manage, the kind of tone that says 'I'm your only friend here, but I'll kick your ass if you don't give me something' all said with a smile of course.  
Felicity leant back in her chair, closing her eyes. When she opened them again they were burning with fury and raw emotion.  
'It was all his fault. James. My stupid brother.' Her eyes blazed as she spoke, but Grissom did not avert his gaze.  
'He kept hassling me about Robbie. Robbie wasn't decent, Robbie wasn't a good thief, he wouldn't treat me right. He tried to split us up, tried to cut him out of the deal too.'  
'Is Robbie the man apprehended by the police?' Grissom tried to be as tactful as possible, not wanting to aggravate Felicity any more than needed.  
'Apprehended?' She mocked in a voice dripping with fury.  
'That bitch shot him in cold blood. I heard them fighting as I was running through to the kitchen. I turned back to see her push him away and shoot him. Just shot him where he stood!'  
Her hand shook on the table, and Grissom noticed how they balled into angry fists.  
'He took too long. Robbie took too long.' This was said mainly to herself.  
'Took too long doing what, Felicity?' Brass encouraged.  
She closed her eyes once more, her shoulders drooping slightly.  
'He's dead now. He won't mind me saying.' Opening her eyes she spoke in a soft, intense voice.  
'He took too long with James. We planned to kill him at the scene, take his cut and then we wouldn't have to worry about him being on our backs all the time. Wouldn't have to worry that he would always be in the background trying to split us up.'  
She took a breath, her green eyes suddenly drenched in tears as they bored into Grissom's.  
'I loved Robbie more than anyone. And that bitch took him away. She took him away.'  
  
*******  
Note; next chapter will be the last. It might take me a while to post as I'm back at college this week. But never fear, I wouldn't dream of leaving you hanging. ;) 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
I was waiting outside Grissom's office by the time he came out of the interviewing room. Leaning against the wall, it's coolness seeping through my jacket, I felt a lightness in my chest. It's done with, I couldn't help but think, though I knew there was much more to come; the trial, the sentencing, the day she finally was released on parole: more to look out for and think about in the future. But for now the weight was lifted slightly. My view of myself and the reality was beginning to blur at the edges and fade into each other, and that made me feel a whole lot more peaceful and calm.  
Looking up lazily I clocked Grissom walking towards me. His head was down and he hadn't noticed me yet, and a smile inched its way onto my lips. One good thing about all this, I thought, is this man. Now that I felt the stress lifting from me, I felt free to admit that I was very attracted to Grissom. Not my usual type, true. Or at least physically he wasn't. But I had only met a few men in my time who rivalled his intelligence, and the comeliness of his face, the shade of his eyes and the way they pinned my own, was enough to give me chills; of the good kind.  
My smile grew wider and I started walking towards him. I was just opening my mouth to greet him, when I noticed a group of people coming down the adjoining corridor. I turned my head slightly just to see if it was anyone I knew, and my eyes locked on Felicity Tyler's. Shit, I thought briefly, and I watched distantly as she struggled with the men beside her and launched herself towards me.  
I registered that she wasn't wearing handcuffs, and the click of her heels on the hard floor echoed in the near empty corridor. I braced myself for the attack, eyes focussed on her speeding body, peripherally taking in the positions of Grissom to my right, and the guards hot footing behind my soon to be assailant.  
When she was only a few feet from me she raised her arm, the small hand balled in a tight fist.  
'You bitch! You FUCKING BITCH!' She roared as she threw herself at me.  
I dodged the first blow, grabbing her body and throwing her away from me so that she hit the adjacent wall. But her anger numbed the pain, and she was on me in a minute.   
I avoided all her blows, though one glanced off the top of my head, causing little more than a brief painful ache. Her hands were flailing near my neck, trying to get a hold, when someone grabbed her and pulled her forcefully away from me. Expecting to see the guards, I was shocked to see Grissom trying to restrain Felicity. Almost in slow motion I watched as Felicity turned, pushing Grissom away and swinging a fist at his face. It found it's target, and Grissom turned under the force of it, his hands coming up to his face as if feeling for the damage.  
Stepping forwards I grabbed Felicity and pinned the bitch to the wall, making sure I smacked her quite painfully against it. That's for Gill, I thought angrily.  
She struggled and twisted like a wildcat, and each time she did I pushed her a little harder against the wall. She was screaming obscenities, and it was only when the guards finally got their act together and came up to take her, that her body slumped and she started sobbing pitifully, sounding as if her heart was breaking.  
I was beyond fury. Wheeling round on the guards I pinned them with my angry gaze.  
'And what the hell was she doing out of her handcuffs?'  
One of them stupidly opened his mouth to answer, and I motioned for him to shut it with a sharp hand gesture.  
'No. I don't want to hear it. You both know the drill, and the rule is there because things like this', and here I gestured at Felicity, 'happen.'  
'Ma'am,' one of them started, a tall man I recognised.  
'No, Roberts.' I stared him down.  
'You're lucky I don't report you. Now do your job and get this woman the hell out of here.'  
They turned, their eyes blazing but their heads held ever so slightly down as if they too were ashamed of their actions.  
Turning to Grissom, I could see that he was leaning against the wall, his hand over his eye.  
'You ok?' I asked, my voice now soft and concerned.  
'Yes, I'm fine.' He replied, his voice steady.  
Gently I pulled his hand away from his eye and took in the already bruised flesh and I nasty cut left by what must have been a ring.  
'Ouch, looks pretty painful.' I smoothed my hand along his cheek as I took in the damage. He caught my eyes, and the steady gaze of them left me feeling a little flustered.  
'C'mon,' I said slightly briskly to hide my reaction. 'We'd better get some ice on this.'  
  
I pressed the ice pack gently to Grissom's already swelling eye, a little smile gracing my lips as he winced slightly.  
When he lifted a hand to take hold of the pack, his fingers brushed against mine, and my smile grew ever so slightly wider.  
'I think you'll survive.' I joked, eyes laughing into his.  
'Yes, and now we match.' He gestured to my own black eye. I laughed, easing myself up.  
'Well, I'd better be going.' I looked down at Grissom, wanting more then anything to ask him to dinner tonight. But there was something about him that made me pause, something that shook my usual confidence. I honestly couldn't guess whether he would say yes or not, and for some reason I was unwilling to take the risk. Maybe I didn't want to lose face in front of such an intelligent and collected individual.  
My hand was just on the door handle when Grissom said, 'England.'  
I stopped, turned around. 'What?' I inquired, amusement and puzzlement in my voice.  
'You're originally from England, which is why I couldn't place your accent.'  
I grinned at him. 'Correct. I knew you would get it.' I started to laugh, and Grissom cocked his head, looking so comical with the ice pack covering half his face.  
'What?' His voice was warm with humour.  
'Its just Americans always take so long placing any British accent which isn't cockney or Coventry.'  
He smiled. 'True, but you do have a slight New York twang obscuring it.'  
I nodded. 'Yes.'  
Once more I turned to go, and once more he stopped me.  
'Your father was a forensic scientist, was he not?'  
'Is that how you discovered where I was from? By looking up my family name?' I tilted my head, curious.  
Grissom shook his. 'Too easy. I did that to confirm my conclusion.'  
I chuckled, leaning back against the door.  
'Yes, he was a forensic scientist, a crime scene investigator.' I smiled slightly, thinking about my dad, who even retired could not stay away from his work. He spent most of the day examining unsolved cases, puzzling through the evidence and generally continuing to work himself hard.  
'You obviously have a keen interest in this line of work. Why didn't you pursue it as a career?'  
Grissom was obviously interested, and he moved the icepack away from his face whilst he spoke.  
I tutted quietly, walking over to him so I could crouch down and gentle take hold of his hand, moving it and the icepack back to his swollen eye. I let my hand linger on his for a while before, placing it on his knee for balance.  
'My dad loved his job, and I remember how every night he would come home looking so peaceful and happy, like he had really achieved something.' I looked up into Gill's face as I spoke, keenly away of the heat of his knee underneath my palm.  
'But every now and then he would come home, and he would look awful. His face would be ashen, his eyes dull, his shoulders drooped; everything registering defeat.  
When I was old enough to understand I asked him why he looked so sad.' Here I took a breath.  
'He told me that although he knew what he did was important, although he knew he helped to solve crime, he also knew that he didn't prevent it: not really. He knew that he was a clean up man, an after guy who was there to clean up and sort through the mess. He was more of an undertaker than an activist. And he told me that eventually this realisation begins to eat at one's soul.'  
Grissom lowered the icepack once more, and this time I didn't make him return it.  
'So I became a cop, because this way I have a higher chance of preventing the crime, than cleaning up after it.  
Of course,' I said as I stood, 'I am no way belittling your work, as both my father and I realised that sometimes enough is discovered to prevent further atrocities, but still. . .' I paused. 'Looking at what it would do to him, I realised that I didn't want my loved ones to see the same in me.'  
I smiled, and even I could feel that it was a sad smile. Attempting to lighten the atmosphere I shook my head self-deprecatingly.  
'Anyway, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Grissom. I hope the next time we meet it's under more pleasant circumstances.' I reached out a hand, and he curled his fingers around mine and shook it firmly.  
'Yes.' Was all he said, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth up becomingly.  
Once more I wanted to ask him to dinner, and once more my courage failed.  
'Goodbye.' I said, forcing a smile, before turning and walking from his office.  
  
I was still cursing myself for not finding the courage to ask Grissom out, as I made my way over to my motorcycle. I ran my hand absentmindedly down the Yamaha's sleek, black side when a voice behind me made me jump in shock.  
'Sorry for startling you.' Said a now very familiar voice. I smiled.  
'No problem. What can I do for you Grissom?'  
The weak sunlight emphasised the bruising of his eye, and his eyes looked slate-grey, not their usual blue. His hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze, and his jacket hung on him loosely, making me wonder if another person could squeeze themselves in their. I bit back a knowing smile.  
He paused, and suddenly I realised that he himself was uncertain. I felt like a light bulb had turned itself on in my chest, and it took all my control not to grin like an idiot.  
'I was wondering,' he stopped, looked at the floor, then back up to my face, 'if you would like to have dinner with me tonight?'   
A slow smile curved the corners of my lips, and because I'd already missed one opportunity today, I leant forwards and brushed my lips against his.  
When I felt him respond, tentatively and then more confidently, I felt happy for the first time since this whole horrible case had started.  
'Pick me up at eight?' I asked as I broke the kiss and leant away from him. My hands rested lightly on his chest, and it seemed so natural for us to stand this way.  
'Sure.' His eyes up close were even more entrancing, and I smiled into them.  
'Great, see you then.' I murmured, leaning in once more to press a kiss to his lips.  
Then swinging my leg over my bike, pulling on my helmet and giving Grissom a little wave, I revved my Yamaha and started home, already thinking about my date tonight with this fantastic man who had helped me so much. 


End file.
